Suspended by a Thread
by Zandorv
Summary: After cheating repeatedly on his wife with one of his patients, marriage counselor Joshua Daniels is caught. But not by his wife. The notorious killer Jigsaw decides to teach Josh a little life lesson. PLEASE R&R!


A/N: Okay, this is my last Saw story (so yes, this and my other Saw story, "Playing With Knives," will remain one-shots. And "Playing With Knives" will not change from script format. Sorry guys.), so pleasepleasepleasepleasepleasePLEASE review. I like longer reviews, ones that are actualy critiques of my work. I take criticism well, I enjoy criticism, so don't be afraid to do that. I don't even care if you didn't like it, you can most definently say so. Just please don't just say, "I hated it. It sucks." or "Yeah, it was good. I liked it." Those comments suck. Please say why you did or didn't like it, and what I can do better, so I can improve my writing. Thank you!

Detective Sing stepped into the stench-ridden room and almost got sick. Corpse stench. It had to be at least a week old. His own expression of disgust was only matched by Detective Tapp's. After preoccupying himself with looking at his partner, he unwillingly turned his eyes to the brutality before him.

The entire room looked a sickening green to him, though he knew it was a trick of the mind. It was large and filthy, completely empty except for the vision of horror he now let his eyes skim over in the pretense of checking the rest of the room. The whole thing made him think of rusted metal. Being in it made him want to take a shower. More like five showers. This hell hole was too barren to give him the excuse of examining it, so he finally had to look at what he was there for.

Detective Kerry relieved him of the task of having to process and analyze what he saw.

"The victim was a thirty-six year old Caucasian male. He lies now in that three foot pit. Most of him, anyway. His arms are still up there, obviously ripped from the rest of him. His entire head and upper torso, along with his arms up from the elbow and a small spot on his stomach are burned somehow. His face is completely unrecognizable. It's burned and some of it's crushed, not to mention the holes in it. So far-" she sighed. "there's no evidence leading to the identification of the killer. Not even a hair." She paused in her frustration before continuing in a tone containing the slightest hint of a deep felt hopelessness. How many more would die like this before this monster was caught? Would it be caught? "It" was the right word, she was sure of it. No human could do this to one of their own.

Josh opened his eyes blearily and was immediately aware of a dull ache in his arms. What was going on? He never felt this groggy, even right after waking up. Suddenly remembering the last occurrence in his life, he jerked himself awake. What the hell!? There was nothing beneath him. Thinking he might be about to fall, he began to panic. Then he saw that he was suspended by ropes on his ankles and two poles, each about nine inches in diameter and parallel to his body, were attached to his hands with metal clasps that held them firmly in place. Then he really started to panic.

"What the fuck is going on!?" he screamed into the nothingness after a stream of incoherent profanities. He could barely hear his own shouts over the pounding of his heart, which seemed to be in his head. He would feel pure adrenaline rushing through his veins, making his body tremble violently and sweat profusely.

His hearing suddenly returned to him as a television screen switched on over his head, become insanely acute to the menacing, gravelly voice the emanated from it. This deep voice came from the most disturbing toy he had ever seen. A ventriloquists doll that almost resembled a clown, but with deep, pit-like black eyes and features that somehow gave him chills, opened its mouth and said:

"Hello, Joshua. You have a faithful wife and a three-year old son that adores you, along with the best job you could dream of. Your life couldn't be better. You said so yourself. Why, then, are you destroying everything you hold dear? The adultery you have committed time and time again with one of your patients is tearing everyone in your life apart. Today you will learn to empathize with their sufferings. You must learn to suffer in silence to survive. The contents of the jars above you will be your salvation- if you earn it. When this recording ends, you will have two minutes to stop the machine you are fastened to. Are you prepared to feel their pain? Let the game begin."

Josh, completely forgetting he was alone, attempted to make a plea.

"No- wait- I-" he was cut short as he felt the poles he was fastened to begin to rotate, beginning to bend his wrist backwards. Everything the doll had said hit him and a frenzied panic rose in his chest. "Oh, my God…" his voice was barely more than a hoarse whisper, but it rose with each utterance. "Oh, my God. Oh, my God! Fuck! No!" he tugged violently, trying to tear his arms from his bonds. It was impossible. He let out a loud groan and realized his situation as the small bones in his hand began to break, then screamed when his wrist snapped completely and sharp spikes impaled the two bones in his arms, dragging them along with the poles.

He had to get out of this.

He looked around above him. Where were those jars? Right over his mouth. There was a rope with a knot at the end hanging from the lip of each one. There were five of them. He instinctively grabbed the one directly above him, clamping his teeth as far up the rope as he could and making an effort to keep his screams in his mouth. When he pulled, it was heavier than he expected. He began to tip it over nervously, not sure he wanted to know what was in it. The first drops spilled onto his face at the exact same time as a loud snapping sound. It was his arms. In both shock and agony he opened his mouth and screamed. Fresh spikes stuck through him and his face began to burn horribly. The liquid spilled over onto his stomach. It ate a hole straight through his shirt and made his skin red and raw. It continued to eat slowly away at him after the initial burn. He couldn't do that one first. Not over his face. He looked at one of the ones farthest away from his main body. The rope for that one was wrapped loosely around the rope of the jar next to it. This one would be harder to tip. He started the process again, this time keeping his jaws clamped together tightly, even when his arms broke for the third time and his shoulders dislocated. He managed to pull it until it was almost completely inverted. Blood began to seep from the burned places. Tears were streaming from the corners of his eyes into his hair and ears and blurring his vision as he pulled the other one farthest from himself.

Could he hear the machine slowing down, or was it just his imagination?

He paused for a second to let out a short, agonized sob that transformed into a wail as his arms broke again and he was spurred into action.

He could feel his skin, muscles, and tendons at his shoulders stretching painfully, much farther than they were supposed to go, as he slowly poured the third and fourth jars onto them. Blood began to ooze from the ripping skin and he felt his tendons begin to tear.

He had to hurry. There wasn't enough time.

He hastily grabbed the last rope and began to pull it with his aching jaw and neck. With a tremendous tug, he pulled it all down at once. A split second before that, his tendons finally detached themselves completely. His skin was the only thing holding him up now. The machine finally slowed and stopped, but he had been too slow. His skin was straining. His left arm ripped with the last jerk of the machine, making his blood drip down to the floor below. Every nerve in his body was on fire. To add to it, some of the liquid had somehow forced its way down his throat and his insides felt like they were slowly disintegrating. His right arm ripped off a second later, accompanied by his final, short scream, which ended abruptly after his ropes snapped and he fell face first into the pit below him, smashing his nose and mouth on the side of it as he fell. He could barely feel the difference when the inch long nails penetrated through him. He couldn't think clearly anymore. His thoughts were disconnected and vague. It was a miracle he was still conscious at all. He rolled over onto his back, hearing the sickening squelch of the nails exiting his wounds as he did so. One of his eyes was gone. He began to cough up blood with chipped pieces of teeth from him smashing his mouth. A lung must be punctured.

He had to live. He couldn't die now. He had to make things right… He had to get up.

But his efforts were in vain. He could do nothing more than a feeble twitching. As his vision started to fade, his last thought was of his son.

"Nathan…"

Then everything went black.


End file.
